tell me where to go from here
by bleuboxes
Summary: He's been Vader for so long; he's been so filled with hate and anger and despair and fear that he's just about forgotten what being alive feels like. [anidala if you squint]


Let me break this awkward silence  
Let me go, go on record  
Be the first to say I'm sorry  
Hear me out

 _Skylines and Turnstiles,_ My Chemical Romance

* * *

He's been Vader for so long; he's been so filled with hate and anger and despair and _fear_ that he's just about forgotten what being alive feels like.

He's all but forgotten the way the air feels when it hits your face, the way the light rushes into your freshly opened eyes, the way the air tastes when you open your mouth to speak. And it's the feeling of these fairly simple and ordinary things that bring up on him an emotion he hasn't felt in a very long time.

He regrets.

Anakin regrets so very much of what he's done. He wishes that he could place all the blame upon Vader, but he knows that he can't. In some very twisted mentality, he is – was – Vader; he was that man, that _thing,_ that slaughtered millions, terrorized even more, and that destroyed anyone or anything that got in his (or the emperor's) way. Vader was a monster, Anakin just wishes he'd realized that sooner.

But know, as his son, his beautiful, strong, brave boy, Luke, is begging for him not to go – not to die – he knows that this is the first time in many, many years (since he was five years old, he believes) that he's truly free. He has no master; it's just him and the stars and, he's free to choose whatever he wishes (and he desperately wishes to see Padmé again).

He wishes that he could go back to when things were good (despite the chaos of war going on through the galaxy) so that he could get rid of the menace that was Palpatine (oh how stupid he'd been to listen to a man such as him) and be able to be the father his children needed after the death of their mother (hell, maybe if he didn't go Dark, Padmé would still be here).

The time for those choices has passed, and as the consequences of his actions unfold around him, he's well aware that he's chosen the wrong path (but that doesn't mean he's given up trying to make up for the infinite amount of wrongs that he's done)

And he's proud of his son – and his daughter too, whoever she maybe he's sure she's as beautiful as her mother. (So he tells his son that he loves him, even though it seems like they've only just met for the first time.)

He can tell which breath is going to be his last.

Suddenly, there's nothing, then everything all at once. He's in the desert just as his story had begun all those moons ago. He's home.

He's in the desert and he's got his arms and his legs – he's got his body back – and it's hot and he can feel sand scratching against his face the exposed skin on his neck; he laughs like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him. He lets out a shout of elation and starts his way through the countless array of rusty orange dunes.

He walks for a while, but he does not get thirsty or tired, so he continues on, but he can't stop wandering; he's got no need to stop seeing as he feels perfectly fine. Although, he could do without the loneliness, but he supposes that being alone in a desert is the least he deserves for all the terrible things he's done.

And that's when he cries.

He's done so many awful things (for what he thought was an honorable cause) and even after he lost Padmé, the woman he was trying to save with all his might (with no avail, naturally), he was convinced by the Darkness that whispered in his ear ever so quietly to continue.

If anything, the death of his wife made him spiral out of control and the only reason he did all of those things was because the Emperor clouded his moral compass with the thought of her. Her death made it all too easy for him to control Vader, to control Anakin, and he's looking back now wondering what he was even thinking.

He supposes, in the grand scheme of things he wasn't. He was listening and obeying and doing just as his master commanded without even a cloud of doubt in his mind. (Because from a young age he was taught to do as he was told)

Maybe that was the Emperors mistake with him, thinking that he was just some obedient little slave boy. He apparently wasn't aware that Anakin never really was one to listen to instructions; plus it was his duty to family (rather than a cause) that had gotten him into that mess, and it seemed very reasonable that it was family that would take him out of it.

So he wipes his eyes, mutters a quick (more or less useless) apology to all those that Vader had killed and keeps walking.

He can't ever seem to stop walking. The sand, once a happy memento of his past, now once again bothers him to the high heavens. Its course and rough and hot and he can't stand it. But he deals with it; it's what he deserves for all the pain and grief that he's caused. The heat, once warm and welcomed against his skin, is now a force to be reckoned with. It's burned his face and his neck and it's agonizing. But he deals with it, because it makes up for what he's done.

xXx

He doesn't know for how long that he's been walking, but it's been a long time. He refuses to forgive himself for what he's done. He knows that he is beyond saving.

He thinks about his children often, hoping that they are happier without him in the universe (he knows for damn sure their safer without him there).

The desert suns set and he continues walking though the cold night. But there's something off; something that isn't quite right. There's a light, a small orange thing that glows in the blackness of the night. It's something that's drawing him closer to it without his permission. And as he gets closer, he's walking faster and he can tell that it's a fire.

It's a fire and he's almost sure that means that there are other people. (And he abruptly has the urge to run very far away from the fire.)

Before he's given the chance to make his escape, he hears a woman's voice – his mother's, beckon him closer.

"Ani." she smiles as he sits down next to her. He can't bring himself to look at her anymore. He's disgusted by what he had done in her name all those years ago to the Tuskens.

What mother would want a cold blooded killer as a son?

"My boy, we've been waiting for you for quite a long time."

"I shouldn't be here." He mutters towards the ground, not daring to look at her.

"You've done your time, Ani; the universe is forgiving –"

" _What I did shouldn't be forgiven!"_ he cries. His mother grabs his shoulder, gently at first trying to get him to look at her; he can't and he won't no matter how desperately he wants to.

"Look at me." She demands; he refuses, and that's when she grabs the other shoulder harshly, squatting down in front of him and forces him to look into her eyes, "I am the Desert and you are my son. You have been through enough; please, Ani. What you've done will haunt you enough through your afterlife; don't make it any more painful than it needs to be."

He opens his mouth to say something in response, but she kissed the top of his head, says she loves him, and he feels himself slip away from this place.

XXx

He opens his eyes and notices that he's no longer surrounded by sand; instead, he's in a forest and he's confused because Obi Wan and Yoda and Padmé are standing next to him on some remote forest planet (that looks a lot like Endor).

"Nice of you to finally join us, Anakin." Teases Obi Wan in his usual manner. Anakin smiles despite himself.

"Yeah well, you know; things to do, sins to repay." He almost says master, but never again. Nobody controls him anymore.

Yoda smiles knowingly, "Well, you did, Skywalker." Anakin isn't quite sure how to respond. He's sure whatever he did wasn't good, but he's trying, and he supposes that has to count for something.

Then she looks at him, and he can practically see the grin on his face. Gods, he's missed her, and she looks so beautiful (as she always does; nothing can change that fact).

"Hi, Ani." She whispers; he swears it looks like she's crying.

"I'm sorry." he mutters; he can't stop muttering that stupid phrase. She walks, but its s graceful its practically floating, over to him, and kisses him on the cheek. Taking his hand in hers, she brings it up to her lips.

"We can be sorry later, love; but today is a good day. Our children our happy and the Empire is dead. Look."

And he does; he sees Luke and C3PO and the Princess Leia (whom his wife points out as their daughter, and he was right, she is as beautiful as her mother) along with the smuggler, Han Solo (whom Padmé informs him is not to be terrorized by an overprotective spirit).

And finally, Anakin Skywalker is happy.

* * *

 **And it looks like the only thing I have the motivation to write anymore is Star Wars.**

 **(I also have no fucking idea what this is so sorry?)**

 **It was sort of brought about by a series that I read on Ao3 about Shmi and the Desert, but it's not at all related to this, because the fics I read actually made sense (and mine is literally brain puke).**

 **Anyway; it's not too fluffy, but we got a happy ending so that's what counts.**

 **I'm not sure how often I'll be writing for the next week (finals are coming up and I am ready for Death™) so there are no promises.**

 **If you're into stormpilot (JSFE IEHV IASUH) I just wrote a fic yesterday? Idk on it so you should totally check that out as long as my other (definitely) Anidala fic. (Might as well just check out my stories bros, you never know, you might like them!)**

 **Anyway, please review (PLEASE!) and or favorite because they literally motivate me to write so much (I've gotten so many over the past couple days, and by many I mean like three but still) and that is part of the reason you even have this fic.**

 **Lots of love to y'all,**

 **bleuboxes**


End file.
